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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Discussion
Amnesia crossover
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)Someone wakes up in a really ridiculously huge mansion/the Abstergo Industries headquarters/an actual labyrinth/big scary place of anon's choice. It is infested by monsters so horrifying they cannot even look at the things that (probably) used to be human. They cannot escape because there is a malevolent presence of some sort (snipers? a demon?) that will kill them stone dead unless they journey into the heart of the horror to... do something or other that will call the evil presence off. They solve puzzles along the way. They also have absolutely no memory of themselves from before the moment they woke up.
Bonuses:
-Some of the monsters quite clearly used to be characters we all know and love, a la Justine's suitors.
All right, maybe not love, but, you know, characters that don't deserve to be tortured and maimed until they are no longer human-looking or even capable of real speech. Which I guess means basically any major character in the series is fair game for this bonus.-They keep finding notes or voice recordings from themselves detailing how they got into this mess int he first place.
Re: Amnesia crossover
(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 12:55 am (UTC)(link)Re: Amnesia crossover
(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 01:45 am (UTC)(link)Amnesia [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 04:29 am (UTC)(link)His head throbbed. His thoughts were muddled but he could make that out that his head was pounding and he felt like there was a weight on his chest tying him to the floor. The floor was cold and his limbs felt stiff and it was times like these that he just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep but his head was hurting and he had this strange feeling that something wasn’t right, that there was something he needed to be doing but he just – couldn’t place it.
He groaned and his voice sounded alien to him, like some tranquilized animal just coming to. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling spread out above him, pure white but in his hazy state it was pulsating and dotted with black smudges. He was sprawled out on his back, he realized. As he lifted his head from the marble floor he became aware that it was the back of his head that ached so terribly. He must have hit it, or been hit, as it may be.
Or been hit.
The realization made him jolt. He sat up immediately, trying to fight off the spinning of the room as he did so. It was dim in here. And everything was white. Too white. It was creepy, creepier than it would have been if there was a man with a baseball bat looming over him – which there wasn’t, just white, so much white.
He needed to be doing something. What the hell was he doing in here? In a... a white room, with the curtains over the giant glass windows drawn back just enough to cast a line of light down the center of the room where he lay. There was a bed in here too, shoved off in the far corner. It looked cheap and had a brown blanket crumpled on top of it, as if maybe someone had slept there recently.
As he began to roll his shoulders and stretch his limbs, he became abruptly aware that he was holding a paper in his right hand. His face crinkled in confusion as he looked down: it was just about three-fourths of some paper, and at the top were three lines that made up an uneven triangle with the bolded words “ABSTERGO” printed beside it. A letterhead. For some business named Abstergo.
Abstergo. Fuck, that was familiar. Some large company. He should know this, he knew he needed to know this. But he didn’t.
What was more intriguing was what was written on the paper. It was scrawled in downright shitty handwriting in a pen and he had to squint to be able to read the tiny – and moving, everything seemed like it was moving – print.
Desmond,
“Desmond,” he tested the name out on his tongue. It was as good as any other, and this note was all he had. He decided that this person was writing to him, rather than assuming he was a really crappy letter-deliverer and had passed out in a white room instead.
You probably don’t remember anything. I’m hoping you don’t, because everything’s really fucked up right now. You’re in the Abstergo Headquarters. In case you forgot who those guys are – I have no idea how much this makes you forget, so just skip over this part if you know it – they’re this giant business made up of Templars.
Quick summary of Templars and Assassins: you’re an Assassin, Templars are bad.
Okay to be a little more descriptive (I don’t have much time) they’re fighting over the Apple and the Templars want to use it to control people—
So the note was to him. Someone had made him forget everything. Desmond flipped over the piece of paper.
—and create this perfect world and the Assassins are trying to stop them. The Abstergo Templars probed into your ancestors’ memories. Don’t let them do that again.
Find Vidic (creepy old guy, beard, you’ll know him when you see him). That’s all you need to know. He’s still in the building. You need to kill him. Kill him and take the Apple.
I’m sorry that I’ve done this to you, to everyone. But this is the only way to fix things. I need to make everything right.
— Desmond
It ended there. Desmond stared in mute shock at the note he was holding. The letters were beginning to still as was the room around him, and his headache seemed subdued by this mountain of information. Abstergo. Templars. Assassins. And he was supposed to kill somebody over a piece of produce. This was... sudden.
Maybe the note was lying. He didn’t know and couldn’t remember: everything was a fog. Sitting here on the ground was not going to be productive, however. Desmond eased to his feet, glancing around the room in full. It looked like a cheap bedroom with a hard floor and weak walls with nothing but a bed and a closet across the room to fill it. The bed was shoved up against the door. The only exit.
Desmond slowly shoved the note into the pocket of his jeans. Either he’d erased his own memory, or someone else had. And either way, all of the answers lay beyond the closed door. The depths of Abstergo, the Templars and the Assassins, and the reason the word “apple” was deserving of a capital “A.”
With a grunt, Desmond pulled the bed back and away from the locked door.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 11:09 am (UTC)(link)